BLAM Ablaze (2022)

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“This has to be an illusion, just my mind playing tricks on me.”

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HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK HOT MILK

POOR JAMES

A MOMENT IN TIME

KAROLINA

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“The immense burning sensation, toppled with a sharp, stabbing pain every time my heart beats. I can’t take this anymore.”

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supernova loose cables and live wires, sparks fly, scattering themselves across the scattered dashboard of nature. fatal fireflies flutter down, igniting forest fires i am the fire and the forest, both the victim and perpetrator. blaze engulfs the canopies, trees’ limbs turned to tinder and ash. yet no matter how bright the shimmering flames are, they must die. sparks fly then sputter, spiraling down to the ground, this time not with a fiery beginning but instead a silent end for even the most luminescent sparks eventually fade away like the distant deaths of the stars for even a supernova is nothing more than the afterimage of beauty.

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#include <iostream> int main () { std::cout << return 0; }

“Are You My Mother?”

<< std:endl;

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“I want you to envision it,” he stretched his hands up towards the tiled ceiling of the Innovation Commons. “A streak of light across the sky. A satellite. A cube, no, a rectangular prism. The culmination of years of work, the Brophy Cubesat Team will create a guiding light for generations of Brophy students to come.”

He took a step forward towards the group of eighth graders that were touring the school. “That cubesat will be one of the greatest devices ever created. A camera. But not just one camera. Two cameras.

Amazing. The second one is in infrared. That’s got more colors.

Colors like yellow. Yellow Valley Fever. It won’t know what hit it.

It thought it was safe. Little did it know that we are making a satellite.

And we are going to take pictures.

Of dust. Remember homecoming?

When everyone inhaled dust?

That’s bad. That’s got Yellow Valley

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Fever in it. But we, well… we have a solution. We…,” He paused to let it sink in, “We are going to take pictures. Of dust.”

“Do we know exactly what we’re doing? No. But did Einstein know what he was doing when he discovered general relativity?

No. Hell no. Einstein spent years banging his head against the wall of his home in Princeton, New Jersey just to find one equation. And we are no different. The pursuit of knowledge does not cease, and we will not be stopped. And we will break through that wall of ignorance. With our heads.”

“It may take years to be done, but mark my words, it will be done.

When that fateful launch day comes, we will be watching, whether it be in 2025, or 2027, or 2029, or maybe if we’re unlucky, 2034.

We will be watching, and so will the world. And so will God. And he will know that we did it. What did we do, you ask? Put simply, we took pictures. Pictures of dust.”

“What’s that? It’s already been done?… Welp, guess we’ll find something else to do.” The eighth graders moved on to look at the laser cutters, which were cool because they had fire.

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There I was, staring at a faceless, masked person squatting sixty feet away.

He placed his finger in between his legs, pointing a finger down towards the ground.

Fastball. I gave a nod towards the catcher and got set on the mound. I stood there, waiting, trying to mentally push through the immense, aching pain within my left arm. Agonizing in pain, I mustered up the courage to start my windup. I lunged toward the plate and accelerated my arm, sending a jolt of pain up my shoulder. I threw the ball, and the batter swings, hitting the baseball on the ground towards the shortstop. The shortstop threw the ball to first, getting the runner out.

I started playing baseball when I was four, and I fell in love with the sport. I would continue to play it up to the summer going into high school. Baseball used to be an outlet for me, a way to have fun outside the classroom. But as I grew older, baseball became more of a chore. I no longer enjoyed playing. It felt like something that had to be done, not something I enjoyed. I began to get frustrated at commitment. I despised going to practice after school and to drive to the middle of nowhere to play tournaments on the weekends.

But how could I leave the game? My life was baseball, and I was great at it, playing for competitive club teams and all-star teams. I had made so many friends and memories through the game like hitting a walk-off in the state semifinals. I couldn’t throw those memories away. And I felt as if

I couldn’t face my dad. My life was baseball, and my dad’s life was me. He committed so many hours to help my teams and to take me to practice. He was my biggest fan, coming to all of my games and supporting me. He would always coach me, pushing me to be the best I could be. How was I going to tell him that I wanted to throw it all away? I thought he would be disappointed in me for quitting.

I was at a loss for a while, sticking to a sport I didn’t enjoy. I would continue the same boring routine. But this would all change with one game: a tennis match.

My best friend had sent me a text, asking if I wanted to watch him play in the finals of his tournament. I agreed, always open to the opportunity to support my friend, especially in such an important match. I had no clue what to expect. I had never really thought about tennis before. I knew about the rules and the game, but had never really thought about the competitive side of it.

When I watched my friend’s match, I was in awe. Both players were giving it their all, fighting through the dry August heat, trying to outsmart and outplay one another. As my head swiveled back and forth, following the ball, I felt something awaken within me.

Something spirited. Something I had been missing for a while. A jolt that gave me life.

A spark. At that point, I knew I wanted to try tennis.

However, I struggled to tell my dad.

I didn’t know how I would tell him and when would be an appropriate time. After

wrestling with my fear of disappointing my dad, I finally decided to tell him while driving home from baseball practice. We were turning out of the parking lot after a long, hard practice. I shut the door and my dad began to drive away. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a wave of emotion flow over me. “Dad, I don’t want to play baseball anymore,” I stammered, on the brink of tears. He was in shock. He asked dozens of questions, trying to see where I was coming from. I told him that I was sick of the game and that I didn’t enjoy it anymore. I told him I was scared that I disappointed him. My dad looked at me, and then looked back at the road.

“Regardless of what you choose to do in life, I will be with you every step of the way, cheering you on. All I ask from you is to give it your all, that’s all you have to do to make me proud.” We didn’t speak a word for the rest of the car ride.

Sometimes losing your inner spark is important. It allows you to reflect on your past, remembering the fond memories that shaped you into the person you are today.

It begins a new chapter within your life, inclining you to try new things. Through this process of losing my spark, I had found a new sport that brought that spark back.

And through this sport, I have met some of my closest friends and have created memories that will stay with me through my future sparks.

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“One of the most important injustices to me and my community that I am currently witnessing is that of the struggle for in-state tuition for undocumented students. This issue is especially close to me right now as I am a senior, and as part of the college application process, have been coping with the reality of what tuition would look like for undocumented students. A specific instance of how situations regarding my immigration status, is how recently the DACA program was opened and closed this past year. I applied for DACA and was in the process

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of being accepted when a judge in Texas blocked that process for me and many other similar students. Now, without an ability to be employed in this country, tuition costs become an even greater burden for me to deal with in the process of applying to colleges.

Art has been a safety net that I can fall upon during very uncertain and deeply isolating times in my life. When I received the news that I would continue to live in insecurity of my future, lacking the basic privileges and rights afforded to citizens, I turned to art to find solace during this

emotionally difficult time. The process of creating this piece was very beneficial for my mental and emotional well-being because I was able to share and discuss issues with fellow “Dreamer” Darien Benitez Sanchez, who is the subject of the piece. It was also beneficial in improving my skills as an artist and designer, since I was also able to receive feedback and advice from a popular artist in our community, Ernesto Yerena.”

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New Message To communications@brophyprep.org Subject

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Cc Bcc

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“He would have dreams of being in her arms and her singing him to sleep with sweet lullabies, but those lullabies were really nightmares—nightmares full of hopes that she still cares for him”

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Apology / Minh Luu ’24 / Digital Illustration

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